


Remembrance

by Bigmurderenergy



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Abuse, Eddie Kaspbrak Has Issues, M/M, Past Abuse, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27294895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bigmurderenergy/pseuds/Bigmurderenergy
Summary: Eddie creates a life for himself with his limousine company. One night he meets someone he remembers vaguely from his past.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Kudos: 21





	Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> So, in the film Richie is the one with the alcohol problem. But I wanted to explore what Eddie had to do to deal with his past trauma. And then it turned into this.

Eddie had drunk in the past. This was an understatement. 

Economics majors showed him a heavy time particularly. The idea of ending up at the local watering hole, filled with underage students after a day of studying ways to make as much money as possible on a single sale. Yeah. It was all about money. Apparently, that made people drink harder than others.

English majors were chasing their favourite authors, suckling down absinthe concoctions in the corner quoting Shakespeare or Hemmingway or some other shit. Medical students drinking more than the recommended amount, flagrantly smoking and talking about the shit they saw while sawing into a cadaver. It all seemed like so much fun. 

But economics students. Well, it’s business; it’s part of the job.

This was community college, so what were they really learning in the end?

Eddie was learning to get away from the house he grew up in. Find anywhere else to go. Learn some numbers, the formula to find success then get away. Escape.

After all the learning how to drink heavily until 2am, and a few numbers here and there, how to do your taxes properly like a real adult. Eddie ended up in New York with a limousine service.

He felt powerful for the first time in his life. Which is odd considering his life didn’t seem that long at this exact point. He grew up, ran way, then ended up in the city driving around people far more successful than he could ever imagine being. It was sort of comforting carting them around.

The power of the limousine being the veneer of success. The promise of monetary glory for young high school graduates screaming into dance halls, performing their final dance of freedom before being thrown into the reality of adulthood. Eddie found it comforting knowing other people will find the hope he had before having them dashed. Before reality hits. Before having to learn how to balance your books in small fluorescent drenched rooms surrounded by strangers.

Prom felt so magical at the time. Full of promise. The height of your life. Dressed to the nines, with the people you love. At least you think you love them.

Eddie didn’t remember his prom all that good. He remembers drinking behind the bleachers dressed in a mothball drenched tuxedo from the back of his cupboard his mom helped tailor to his tiny frame.

He remembers not being all that popular so only being there with one or two people. One person standing out in his memory. Mop of brown hair and a big grin, all teeth. He remembers the softness of lips on his neck, brushing the soft hair on the back of his neck. He remembers the heat of whiskey on his tongue, trickling from a warm hipflask.

He remembers feeling on top of the world. He remembers this unrequited feeling being reciprocated for one moment. But can’t quite remember the identity of the person. 

He barely remembers his childhood, mostly it was defined by his mother’s abuse. Trails between pharmacies loaded with bags of pills and lotions. Streets dappled with old leaves, light peaking through the clouds. He remembers feeling needed as he rubbed the cream between his mother’s toes, her corns hard between his fingertips.

He knew he had to get away from it. He knew he had to escape. When he learned how to make his own money and become self-sufficient the best way to make more money was to be around people who made more than himself. More than he could possibly imagine.

That’s how he ended up in New York City. Which was dirtier than he had imagined. But the smog thick in his lungs was not as suffocating as the calls for him to feed her or soothe her aches. Freedom never smelt so good.

One night became memorable for reasons he couldn’t fully comprehend at the time. He wasn’t drunk when it began, although some part of him wishes he could remember being at least tipsy at the start just so the fogginess made sense on some level. 

The patron he picked up was an up and coming comedian in the scene. He got a call from a brisk publicist explaining that his client required pick up from a theatre on Broadway. The client himself was not too famous at this point, but he was told by the publicist he was gonna be big, huge. Eddie probably didn’t recognise his name, not yet, but he would.

Richie Tozier. That was the name. Eddie looked down his books trying to figure out if he’d picked up this guy before in the past but couldn’t find it. The name felt familiar to his tongue but there was no evidence he had even met the man in question before. 

The show ended. People pooled out towards the backdoor where Eddie sat in his limousine waiting for the big deal he was about to pick up. Eddie wasn’t exactly a big deal yet. He was still building his company. Developing contacts and finding fares from any celebrity or teenager who’d take him.

The publicist assured him he’d be paid fairly to drive this comedian to the closest hotel. When Eddie explained Manhattan was mostly hotels the voice responded “OK, the fanciest fucking one you can find. Jesus. Just make my guy look good.”

So, he sat on in his leather seats watching strangers milling around the backdoor waiting for autographs or recognition from their celebrity. Eddie was just waiting to be paid.

That’s when Richie bundled himself into his backseat.

Eddie saw his face in his back mirror and could taste warm whiskey on his tongue. He looked at his hands gripping the steering wheel, the scar on his palm peeking under the rubber wrapping. He felt sick. Richie looked impatiently into the mirror. 

“Well?” He snapped.

“Oh.” Eddie said, remembering his job, “Where to?”

“What did my guy say?”

“Somewhere expensive.”

“Yeah. Sure, he did.” Richie sighed. “Where’s good to drink?”

Eddie ended up driving Richie to the nearest high-class bar he could think which had a back entrance. It was part of the job. Celebrities tended to not want the night to end after a single performance. They wanted the experience. 

Just like the high schoolers not wanting their prom to end, drinking as much prosecco as they could glug down, spilling it on the leather seats. Imagine that, but every night. That’s how Eddie assumed it was being famous. Celebrities, who dressed nice and everyone had already voted them King or Queen. Where their experience of this world was an endless party. It’s all Eddie saw. The endless highs.

You don’t order a limousine if you’re not celebrating something or other. Even if it’s your own success.

Richie was drinking in the backseat from a small ratty hipflask the entire journey, sipping at every traffic light. He stumbled from the limousine leaning against it as he tumbled out. He smacked the passenger window and peered in. Eddie rolled down the window. Richie smiled, all teeth, “Have a drink with me.”

Eddie wanted to say he was on the job. It wasn’t professional. But the glow of Richie’s eyes made him say otherwise.

Eddie remembered going to therapy. He remembered his psychiatrist asking why he liked to drink. Eddie responded that he didn’t enjoy it. He explained it was part of the job. Economics, right? People who learned how to do that needed alcohol to get by. The psychiatrist laughed. Fucking laughed. 

OK, so maybe he drank because it felt good. OK, maybe it made his brain slow down for a second. Maybe it made things feel better in the moment. A sudden moment of laughter felt more authentic. A sudden cry of realisation felt more revelatory. More than anything, it helped him forget why he got here in the first place. Why was he drinking? Eddie couldn’t quite remember. Was it the memories of his childhood he couldn’t quite grasp? Was it the pain he felt while learning numbers in a way that didn’t fully corroborate in his brain in the way they were meant to? Was it to forget the amount of vomit he had to clean from his limousine floors? Was it all the above?

All those thoughts ran through his mind as Richie peered through his passenger window expectantly. His scarred hand itched. He still couldn’t remember how he even got that mottled mess.

He locked the limousine and walked through the backdoor into the bar he selected.

Richie ordered a bourbon.

Eddie ordered a cider.

Richie looked at him pointedly.

“I’m driving,” Eddie said petulantly.

Richie changed his order to another bourbon.

Eddie remembered drinking bourbon heavily back in college. It made him feel refined. It burned on the way down, but he couldn’t remember the taste. 

Everyone said it tasted like wood, but Eddie couldn’t say he ever got those notes. It always felt like fire to him. It made him drink it more. The pain feeling natural as it slid down his throat.

“I remember you from somewhere.” Richie said, while drinking and staring at Eddie pointedly.

“I don’t know where from.” Eddie laughed while holding his glass close to his chest.

“No, see your face!” Richie exclaimed, “It’s unique! But familiar...” He took a quick practised sip of bourbon. “Did we make out once?”  
Eddie scoffed, the bourbon burning his lips as he took a sip. 

Nothing in Eddie’s head reminded him of kissing a man at any point in his past. Maybe he had drunk too much in his past, but it felt like something he’d remember. He looked into Richie’s glassy eyes. Trying to find some sort of recognition in that moment. His eyes trailing over Richie’s face. Older than he could have remembered, lines under his eyes and framing his lips. His hair still too long, curling around his neck, his pale, soft looking neck.

Eddie downed his drink in one.

“Oh hey!” Richie scoffed, signalling for a waiter, “Another round!”

Eddie was not driving home tonight. 

He wondered if he could tell the security of this place to protect his limousine. It was his only one at this point. He hoped it was a friendly back alley he had parked down in Manhattan but that was never guaranteed. He hoped they had security cameras so that maybe he could claim insurance if it got damaged. Would it count if he had half a bottle of bourbon when reporting? Probably not. But then, it wasn’t his fault this guy kept ordering him drinks.

Eddie always wondered what it was like on the other side. The beauty of the limousine was he could always put up the screen if the intensity of the patrons became too much. It made him feel safer. But having Richie glancing at him with such heat in this open environment made him feel uncomfortable. But not unwitting to the attention. 

He liked it. The glare of his eyes felt comforting.

So, to say it ended like most jobs would be betraying the underlying heat of their encounter. They made out against a dark alley way wall for an hour. At least it felt like an hour.

Something enticed him to Richie in a way that he had never experienced in his life up to this point. It was probably the bourbon. However, the softness of Richie’s lips against his bare skin felt so very right. So very familiar.

Richie offered the hotel room he had booked that night. The flush in Richie’s cheeks so very familiar but foreign. 

They laid on that bed together. Twinkling city lights behind gossamer curtains. Eddie couldn’t call what they had love. But it felt close. It was physical but weighted with something else. Hot skin sliding against each other. Lips traversing every curve of each other’s body. It felt so right but nostalgic in the same breath.

Eddie will always attest he was a full professional when he was a driver for the limousine company. He never mentioned Richie. Never talked about the passion he felt over this one up and coming comedian. Richie’s publicist never called again. Eddie heard from the news that he’d moved to California and couldn’t express fully the emptiness he felt with that news.

It took years to realise that Richie Tozier, the up and coming comedian he met so many years ago was his childhood friend from Derry. The boy he fell in love with so many years before. It hit him in the Chinese restaurant carpark of the town he was called back to so many years after. It suddenly made sense. It suddenly hit him like a freight train that they had a chance. But his brain was so muddled by age and potentially the life he lived beyond Derry.

Blame it on the alcohol. Maybe.


End file.
